Memory Full
by girl.with.passion
Summary: After wrapping up their recent case, John and Finch are back in library. Where Finch recovers something surprising from John's camera. A short John/Finch OS, set after the events of 'Last Call [3x15]'. Rinch


I don't know, but this sort of just... happened. :') After seeing this week's episode, this idea came in my mind and it wouldn't go away until I have written it, so... it's just pretty random and well. I hope you all enjoy it. :)

* * *

**:Memory Full:**

'Memory full'. The message appears on camera's screen as soon Finch turned on the John's camera to retrieve the photos from their latest case. After every case, Finch usually backup the images from camera and delete them here so it's clean for next case. It's not that they are shortage of memory cards but Finch cannot risk of them falling into wrong hands. Knowing John, it's highly unlikely but still, leaving images in camera is something Finch does not approve of. So usually end of each case John and sometimes Finch will create the back up before wiping the camera clean. Their recent number was Sandra a 911 Operator. Where Finch is relieved that they managed to save Sandra and Aaron, he is not fully peace knowing their suspect is still on loose. Finch focuses back on camera and wonders how John managed to fill up the memory card for this case. In previous cases John would take a lot of photos but never had memory full but what happened in this case.

He puts the memory card in computer and opens the folder to retrieve the photos stored. He starts to go through them slowly, nothing seems out of place or odd, all pictures are taken during the case. He comes across the next set of photos which are taken from outside the 991 Emergency Operating Office, which Reese has taken from a far building. They all seem fine, Sandra's movement in the office are caught. He was scrolling through images when something catches his eye; opening the photo he lets out a gasp because it's his photo. It's him, Finch, in operating office, sitting in front of monitor, taking a call. After staring at it for too long, he clicks next and gets surprised as there is another photo of him which might've been clicked just few seconds after the last one. Finch quickly scroll down and is absolutely shocked to find so many photos of him in the office. It seems John has tried to capture as many movement of Finch as he could along with Sandra's. Some of pictures are taken from such angel that it would seem they are Sandra's but the photographer had made sure that Finch was included too. Finch just looks at the pictures wide eyed for sometime. He has always been careful to stay away from people's eyes and cameras. Finch never liked being his pictures taken, he's just too cautious; it is unbelievable how John has managed to click so many pictures of him without him noticing. 'Of course, I was in office, how would I notice?' He mentally scolds himself. One particular picture of his catches his eye, opening it, he was on call, in front of computer, head help up high, mouth slight open looking surprised. Finch immediately knows which moment was that. It was when a man called 911 because squirrels were in his car. His lips curve slightly into a smile as he remembers the incident, then how without missing a beat John had to make a funny remark on it and this time Shaw joined him.

"Like what you see, Finch?" His deep voice startles Finch breaking his thoughts chain. Finch turns to see John, he is standing right behind him with his usual smirk.

"Mr. Reese? I didn't hear you." John moves in front of Finch and leans in a desk. He looks at the monitor for a second before glancing back at Finch.

"This is my favorite one too." Finch's breath catches in his throat at his words. He makes the mistake of looking up at John, because when he looks at him, all he can see is how serious John is.

"Mr. Reese.. you clicked my photos?"

"Finch-"

"Why would you do that, Mr. Reese?" From his tone John was unsure whether Finch was upset or amazed more.

Reese considers his options for answering this question. He just couldn't help himself, seeing Finch in office as 911 operator he looked so _adorable_... even camera agreed with him and the result is before them.

"I know you are camera shy, Finch but I am look at you, in uniform. I thought, you'd like it." John replies with smirk and Finch turns his gaze away, but his cheeks warm up.

"Mr. Reese, while I appreciate your _thoughts_, I would have liked if you kept me away from the camera lens."

"But that would be so unfair on camera, Harold." John deliberately used his first name as he responded in seductive voice.

"Seriously, John." Finch knows, Reese did this deliberately to which Finch rolled his eyes but he could not help the fluttering feeling in his stomach.

"Finch-"

"Mr. Reese, there is a reason, I don't like my pictures taken. I don't have any pictures because I can't risk myself being exposed to world, to know me. Besides, I don't have a photogenic face."

"Finch, you really think, I would be_ that_ careless with..." your pictures. Words are left hanging from sentence but Finch knows the end of this sentence.

"You don't trust me, Finch?"

"Of course, I trust you, Mr. Reese. It's just, it's... well... I was not prepared for _such surprises_." He points toward the monitor.

"I would say I am sorry but" John turns his glance towards the monitor where he can see Finch's picture.

"I am not sorry." He looks back at Finch and smile flashes on his lips, a genuine smile. The smile which is only for Finch. On the other hand, hearing John's non apology, Finch is flustered and loss at words. So instead, starts to type, gluing his gaze at monitor.

""What are you doing, Finch?"

"Deleting them, Mr.-" This is all Finch manages to speak before his voice get's stuck in his throat. He watches with open mouth as John without letting him finish, snatches the keyboard from his grasp and holds is tightly in his hands, high and away from Finch's grasp.

"No!"

"Mr. Reese?"

"No, Harold. I am not going to let you do that." Harold feels chills down his spine when John speaks in calm, firm yet threatening tone.

"John-"

"These are memories, Harold. I was... creating memories. Look at yourself." John hits the arrows on keyboard and pictures move on monitor, one after an other one of Finch, he stops when the picture of Finch, still in front of monitor with headset and he is almost smiling. Almost.

"You looked happy, Finch. I just wanted to capture these moments for you," for me, us. He leave these parts out, hoping Finch will not notice.

"Finch, it seemed so perfect together, all seemed fit. You, in front of monitors, helping people, in uniform. And I know, you were enjoying it too. The surroundings, you, everything fitted together."

"This is..." Finch finally looks at John, he tries to say something but nothing comes out of his mouth.

"Thank you, John." He whispers gently before he reaches his hand out towards John. John looks at him with suspicious, still not convinced.

"I will not delete them, Mr. Reese." He assures the young man in suit. Reese finally hands the keyboard to him. Finch gets back to work but feels slightly uncomfortable with Reese's glances over him and monitor to make sure.

"Mr. Reese, it's quite late. I think you should go and take some rest."

"So should you, Finch." Finch shakes his head slightly, typical John.

"I will Mr. Reese, once I am done with my task."

"Alright, Finch." John gets up from from desk.

"Good night."

"Good night, Mr. Reese." Finch doesn't look up from monitor. John starts to walk away.

"Oh and I forgot..."

"What's that's, Mr. Reese?"

"You are wrong about not having a photogenic face." The typing stops abruptly causing Finch to look up just in time to catch John's smirk. Finch's face color turns in the shade of pink. John not bothering to hide his grin, let is go even more wide when he notices the older man is actually blushing.

"Good night, Harold." He turns and walks away, not wiping off the grin. Harold continues stares at the empty space where John was standing just seconds ago.

"Good night, John." And then once again the library fills with the sound of typing.

* * *

I hope it was readable.


End file.
